107: Chapter 107 The Entire Internet: ? ? ?

"Ding! Congratulations Host, you have drawn an S-rank reward — [Master-level Piano Skill]!"

"Bonus: World-class virtuoso masterpiece 'La Campanella (The Bell)' perfect-level sheet music and performance memory!"

"Reward fusion in progress, please remain conscious, Host..."

Lu Zhixian was stunned for a moment.

Looking at the dark gold text on the panel, his first reaction wasn't ecstasy.

But rather—

Just like that?

He had originally prepared himself to get some trash like "Intermediate Screen Protector Application" or "Elementary Glass Cleaning Technique."

After all, with gacha, the odds were what they were.

But he hit the jackpot in one go.

And it was an S-rank.

"...Alright."

Lu Zhixian leaned back against the headboard, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly.

The next second, without any warning.

A massive stream of information flooded into his mind.

First was the piano technique.

Then was "The Bell."

A piece known in his past life as the "pinnacle of piano virtuosity."

From the first note to the last, the entire piece was etched perfectly into his muscle memory, right down to the depth of the pedal presses.

Lu Zhixian closed his eyes.

His ten fingers twitched uncontrollably, as if someone had connected invisible wires to his fingertips.

It lasted for about thirty seconds.

The information stream stopped.

Lu Zhixian opened his eyes and looked down at his hands.

He slowly moved his fingers.

Index, middle, ring, pinky—he curled them one by one, then straightened them.

The trajectory of every finger's movement had become exceptionally smooth.

Lu Zhixian stood up, walked to the bathroom, turned on the light, and looked at himself in the mirror.

On the surface, nothing had changed.

But he could feel a new layer added to his temperament.

Lu Zhixian tilted his head at the mirror.

"It actually looks pretty good."

He turned off the light and went back to bed.

He glanced at the time on his phone: 1:17 AM.

Play the piano?

Now?

The neighbors would be knocking on his door with kitchen knives tomorrow.

"I'll do it tomorrow."

Lu Zhixian tossed his phone onto the nightstand and rolled over.

...

The next day.

12:00 PM.

Lu Zhixian was woken by the sunlight. He lay in bed for five minutes before getting up to cook a bowl of noodles.

After eating, he sent a message to Old Zhao.

"Help me find a recording studio with a grand piano. I need it this afternoon."

Old Zhao replied instantly: "???"

"Piano?"

"You want to play the piano?"

"Huh?"

Three consecutive messages followed by a string of question marks.

Lu Zhixian replied with one word: "Urgent."

Old Zhao didn't ask further.

Forty-five minutes later, an address was sent over.

A high-end recording studio on the North Fourth Ring Road in Jingzhou. The owner was a well-connected contact of Penguin Music. Hearing that Lu Zhixian wanted to use it, he cleared all the afternoon's reservations without a word and waived the studio fee.

2:00 PM.

Lu Zhixian arrived at the recording studio.

A Steinway series grand piano stood in the studio.

Its market price was around three million yuan.

Lu Zhixian walked around the piano and casually touched the edge of the lid with his fingertips.

He propped up the lid, sat on the piano stool, and adjusted the height.

His fingers rested on the keys.

Old Zhao stood outside the glass booth of the recording studio, watching Lu Zhixian through the window.

He noticed something.

The way Lu Zhixian looked sitting at the piano was completely different from when he was eating steak on the sofa or casually strumming a guitar.

Old Zhao couldn't quite put it into words.

But the image reminded him of the classical music concerts he had seen on TV as a child.

Those white-haired pianists sitting on stage—before they even played a note, just sitting there made people afraid to speak.

That was the feeling Lu Zhixian gave off right now.

"Damn," Old Zhao cursed softly.

Inside, Lu Zhixian raised his right hand.

His index finger fell.

Ding.

A single note.

The recording equipment in the studio lit up with red lights simultaneously.

Lu Zhixian's fingers didn't stop.

The second note jumped out immediately after, an octave higher than the first.

Then the third. The fourth.

The opening of "The Bell."

A series of rapid, leaping high notes, like the sound of bells from a church tower in the distance.

Then the left hand cut in.

Deep chords laid the foundation, supporting those dancing notes.

Lu Zhixian's fingers began to race across the keys.

The speed began to increase.

Large leaps.

...

Four minutes and thirty seconds.

A final series of rapid descending scales from high to low.

The final note landed on a steady low-frequency chord.

The vibration slowly dissipated.

It went quiet.

Lu Zhixian raised his hands and rotated his wrists.

He turned and looked at Old Zhao in the booth.

Old Zhao was pressed against the glass, his mouth wide open like a fish washed ashore.

Lu Zhixian tapped on the glass.

"Did you get it?"

Old Zhao snapped out of it and looked down at the equipment on the recording console.

The red light was on.

The waveform perfectly recorded the entire performance.

"It's... it's recorded."

"Good."

Lu Zhixian stood up from the piano stool.

"No need for post-production mixing, just export the raw tracks directly."

"Also, help me pull the footage from that fixed camera in the studio. We'll use that as the video."

"Post it on Yitian and sync it to Penguin Music."

"For the title, write..."

Lu Zhixian thought for a moment.

"'Finished my noodles, just digesting.'"

Old Zhao: "..."

You call this digesting???

4:11 PM.

The video was published.

The cover was a side-angle shot from the fixed camera. Lu Zhixian sat before the Steinway, his fingertips suspended above the keys. Light hit him from the side, carving his profile and the piano's silhouette into contrasting blocks of light and shadow.

Title: Finished my noodles, just digesting.

Duration: 4 minutes 37 seconds.

In the first three seconds after it was posted.

The traffic pool in Yitian's backend immediately triggered the highest-level push channel.

Su Lan personally monitored the data screen, watching the red line representing concurrent viewers shoot up at an almost vertical angle.

In one minute, concurrent viewers broke one million.

In ten minutes, three million.

Bullet comments began to appear.

At first, it was excitement.

"It's here, it's here! The Godfather has updated!"

"Cooking yesterday, what today? Dismantling an aircraft carrier or assembling a rocket?"

"Wait, the one on the cover... a piano??"

Then the sound in the video came through.

The first note fell.

The bullet comments went quiet for about two seconds.

Immediately after, the screen was densely covered by the same symbol.

"???"

("???????????"

"Wait, wait, wait."

"What is he playing?"

"Is this a piano? Is this really a piano?? Can human hands move that fast??"

"So this guy cooked the day before yesterday, played guitar yesterday, and is playing piano today???"

"Pardon me, but what does he plan to do tomorrow?"

When the video reached the virtuoso section with crossed hands in the middle, the bullet comments spiraled completely out of control.

The entire screen was filled with the same sentence—

"This isn't human."

The tone of the comment section also rapidly shifted from initial amazement to collective breakdown.

"I've studied piano for twelve years, and I just closed my piano lid."

"Senior at a music conservatory's piano department. After watching this video, I've decided to change careers."

"Yesterday you guys said his guitar was amazing, and I said okay, everyone has their strengths. Today, what the hell can I say?? What else can I say??"

"Let me re-translate the video title: 'Finishing noodles, then destroying the piano world.'"

And among all the comments, the one with the fastest-growing likes and the most momentum came from an unverified ordinary user.

Only three lines:

"Did you guys notice? After he finished playing, the first thing he asked was 'Did you get it?'"

"Not 'How was the performance?'"

"To him, this is just like us asking if the dishes are washed after eating."

Below this comment, a uniform four-word response appeared.

"Say no more, kneeling."